Keyron Shade
Character Name: Keyron Shade Character Age: 53 Character Gender: '''Male '''Class/Subclass: '''Melee/swords '''Archetype: '''Diplomat '''Race: '''Arborian '''Character Personality: '''A man who has fought through life with both his sword and his words. He prefers peace, even if that means submitting to those who might oppress himself and those he calls his friends and family. But will rise up against these oppressors if they threaten his home and his compatriots homes in the trees. Tends to call people by their profession or how they look because he has trouble remembering people's names. Calm, collected, when needed, but fierce in his fighting for what he believes in. Thoroughly enjoys tactics, but varies from being a wild card tactician with an insurmountable master plan, to a fop who has no idea what he is doing. He also greatly enjoys playing and listening to music but is a harsh critic of himself.(listing adjectives as this seems to be popular)Silver-tongued, passionate, loyal, wise, kind, open minded, good-humored, musical, whimsical, and forgiving of all but himself. '''Background Information: Shade did not live an easy life, then again, no one does. He did not grow up in some fantastical gold mansion on the tip-top of a giant ever-reaching tree. He labored with those he loved, those he hated, and those he felt no powerful emotions for, doing what needed to be done to survive. Like many young men and women, he grew tired of his unending, tedious, never changing monotony and ventured out, hoping to find something new, desirable in the world. Shade found his new place in the sword. Over and over he practiced, learning from an old, yet capable master. Ten years, the time flew by as he learned the ins and outs practicing with other students and slowly earning respect and experience from his various fights. Still, this was not what Shade was looking for. When he left his practical school of fighting, he was not the best, but on occasion he could beat the best, if the scales were tipped in his favor. So, once again, with sword at his back he struck a new path into the world this time aimed at academics. These academics were more often than not bought in the form of books from traveling merchants. Shade procured money by all the scoundrels he encountered along the downtrodden path he walked. Who, with great persuasion and much pocket emptying, convinced them he wasn't worth their time, but at the same time emptied their ill-gotten goods from their pockets. Still, every now and then his sword had to be drawn and he did not escape unscathed from all these battles. The wounds were minor and always healed with time, but they did leave enigmatic scars on his arms and chest revealing a much deeper and intricate tale to be told of his past. Ironically, though his fighting had stained his hands with much blood, it did not create a primoridal urge within his mind to continue cleaving creatures, in fact he much preferred battling with his tongue against the steel of his attackers. After one such occasion where Shade had disciplined and reformed a pirate leader with various philosophies he had studied on his journey through the unknown world, a diplomat, in name only, took Shade under his wing and began to teach him the ins and outs of politics in repayment for his rescue. The subject interested Keyron greatly. He traveled with this man for much longer than he studied the spear, gaining connections and learning new methods of influencing others. Of course his nomadic existence could not persevere forever and upon the death bed of his mentor, the diplomat, and the news of his blade teacher's passing, Keyron realized he desired to discover more of himself, for he was now his only teacher. He did not travel for this journey but instead found shelter in a small encampment of trees and began to thrive and rediscover himself. At the age of 46, Keyron believed he had discovered as much as he could of himself and decided it was time to return home, or to what was once his home. His romp through life had not been easy, but compared to the suffering from various bandit and pirate attacks on his homeland it had been a walk in a very large and grand park. And the faults of his journey hit Keyron like an uprooted tree toppling from the swings of an gleaming ax. His ignorance had been bliss, but it was nothing more than a selfish bliss and above all Keyron realized he wanted to correct, what to any other person would have been bad luck for those people, a mistake he himself had made. Only one position remained, a position at the top where he could fully repay those who had suffered and protect their home from further destruction. "With my mind and my sword I will defend this nation for I am but a shadow of my people." Afterthoughts-''' A light breeze sifted through the night air, bathing the barren landscape in a sweet chill of bone-biting death. Only the cactus stood as spectators to the conflict which had unfolded between a young man and a small band of starving mercenaries. The young one held his scabard in one hand, and a glinting blade in another. Carefully, meticulously, he bathed the sword in a quilt of cotton acquired from his aggressors, a fire skipping gleefully along the metal's sides. But something caught his eye: a reflection. An elf, rather sorrowful and heavy-hearted, stared straight ahead boring right into him. His gaze flickered and shifted from the reflection to the battered edges of the weapon. What had he become? A thief? Yes. A murderer? Maybe. A creature whose form he did not enjoy? Definitely. How many times now had he failed at persuading his attackers? 10? 20? Did it matter? Yes, yes it did, he ultimately decided. Each time his blade tasted the iron ringed blood of his attackers it was not their failure to defend or to make reasonable well thought-out life choices. It was his failure to reform and reshape their essence and ideals on life. A hand gripped his shoulder, a hand that was both kind and tired. "Keyron, do not doubt the power of words, it is a contradictory statement, for doubt itself is a word. Over your life you will, and have glimpsed, the detestable outcome of fighting. You must find a more worthwhile and meaningful end. I truly believe words provide the power to achieve this phantasmal goal. Do not squander their power nor my teachings of it." Keyron retained his dismayed expression within his heart but replied so faithfully that he almost believed it himself. "Yes master." Time passed. Those words did not fade. '''Why You Should Be Accepted: I don't know if any of you have heard of a server creator by the name of Rokuzo, but his RPs are strict and well thought out. I have been accepted to two of his RPs before and maintained my position within said RPs. That being said I have only applied to two of them. In fact, in the most recent one I assisted in monitoring the behavior and rule breaking of every player. Of course I did not just act on my own but asked for advice on suitable punishments. Of course, if I was asked to punish the criminal on my own judgement, I did, with fair judgement of course. '''Leadership position of Sylvalia- '''I have held positions of trust before in various RP servers and have not forsaken my position as long as the server continued to exist and did not cease to function. I believe I know how to RP and can assist others in the development of the world and its story. I also enjoy RPing and would like to find a server I may be active on.